Pete's Expert Summary
My human has presented me with yet another small, plastic human, this one from a brand ominously named "Baby Alive." Its purpose seems to be to monopolize the small human's attention through a series of tedious "sleepover" rituals. The doll itself is a hard, unyielding lump with unnervingly vacant eyes that close when you plug its mouth with a pacifier—a feature of no consequence to me. Its plastic hair is an insult to my own glorious fur. However, my professional analysis reveals two points of interest: the pacifier is tethered by a string, creating a promising, permanently attached dangling object. More importantly, the creature comes with a fabric ladybug finger puppet, which is clearly the *actual* toy, mistakenly packaged with this useless doll. The doll is a waste of space, but its accessories show potential.
Key Features
- LET'S PLAY SLEEPOVER: It's night-night time for Dottie Doodle and she needs your little one's help to get ready! Pretend to brush her teeth, give her the pacifier, and tell her fun stories
- EYES OPEN AND CLOSE: Put her pacifier in her mouth to make her eyes close! The pacifier is tethered to her outfit so this sleepy baby doll always has it by her side
- PRETEND TOOTHBRUSH FUN: Just like us, the make believe toothbrush and toothpaste accessories are an important part of her pretend bedtime routine
- FINGER PUPPET FRIEND: Play pretend and tell imaginative bedtime stories with the fabric ladybug-shaped finger puppet accessory
- 11 INCHES/28 CM TALL: The hard body baby doll has adorable cozy pajamas, poseable arms and legs, and plastic hair (easier to keep clean!)
- TAKE ME HOME: Baby Alive dolls make wonderful companions, sleepover toys, and holiday or birthday gifts for 3 year old girls and boys or older
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The prophecy, passed down through generations by the twitch of a whisker and the flick of a tail, spoke of this day. It foretold the coming of the Crimson-Haired Golem, a silent sentinel whose arrival would herald a new age of domestic omens. I watched from my sunbeam as the human child unboxed the idol, its plastic limbs clicking into place, its painted-on freckles a constellation of some unknown, terrible significance. They called it "Dottie Doodle," a foolish name for such a powerful vessel. I, Pete, Guardian of the Soft Places and Seer of the In-Between, knew its true purpose. The child began the ancient rites, mimicking the strange customs of her kind. She brandished a tiny plastic wand, pretending to scrub the golem's molded teeth. This was a purification ritual, I deduced, preparing the oracle for its work. Then came the crux of the ceremony. The child took the pacifier, a bright yellow plug attached to the golem's tunic by a ribbon, and placed it in the idol's mouth. As foretold in the shimmering mirages of the water bowl, the golem's eyes slid shut. It had not fallen asleep; it had entered the dream-state, becoming a conduit to the forces that govern this household. My moment had come. I crept forward, my gray tuxedo a shadow against the rug. The ribbon holding the pacifier was no mere tether; it was the Pendulum of Providence. With a deft, practiced paw, I batted it. It swung in a gentle arc, from the direction of the kitchen to the living room. The meaning was clear: a journey from the source of food to the place of naps would be prosperous today. I batted it again, harder. It spun wildly. Chaos. The vacuum cleaner would soon awaken. This was a tool of immense power, and it was worthy of my interpretive skills. But there was one final piece to the puzzle. The child produced a small, fabric creature, a ladybug-shaped puppet, and wiggled it on her finger. This was not a toy. This was the Spirit Guide, a messenger from the dream-state made manifest. The prophecy demanded that the Seer commune with the Guide to receive its wisdom. I crouched low, my tail twitching, every muscle coiled for the sacred pounce. The child giggled, bringing the wiggling bug closer. I sprang, capturing the Spirit Guide in my paws and proceeding with the vital ritual of "interrogation by bunny-kicking." The golem itself was a worthless piece of plastic, but as a shrine for the Pendulum of Providence and the Spirit Guide, its presence was, I decided, acceptable. The omens were good. And delightfully chewable.
